The streets were dirty, gritty. She could feel the grit digging into her jaw on her cheek as she hit the pavement once more. She wondered to herself why she did this sometimes; this messy, grueling job. But then she remembered. It was because her beautiful Aurora lived here, and all of Aurora's little friends. Because the residents of The Moors all had loved ones, and all those loved ones had little friends. For so many people, The Moors had become a place of refuge; not refreshing, no, nor pretty, but an oasis nonetheless; a place where you could go if you had a past you were running from, if some of the nightmares you created in the past were catching up with you.

And so, she got up once more. Pushed her body up off the ground, and called for Diaval to turn into a bird once more, to help her track the latest scumbag.

Diaval flew off with a caw, chasing the attacker through the labyrinth of paths and turns, following him to his hideout. And then he reported back to his mistress.

The attacker had a hideout (don't they all?) on the other side of town, a little shack under a bridge that was sufficiently dark and damp enough to make a suitable lair for any discerning criminal. Diaval flew to the back, to take out runaways, while Maleficent confidently stalked toward the entrance. A kick of her spike heeled boot and the ramshackle door splintered apart and flew off its hinges. The inside was poorly lit, but that didn't affect her, not as she raised a gloved hand and lifted all the contents of the shack into the air, and then to where she stationed herself outside. She set everything down with a clunk, no need to finesse these ignorant apes.

There were three of them. She could tell by the way they all looked to the eldest that he was their leader. He stood up, puffed out his chest, and began to speak- which Diaval thought, all things considered, was not quite the best thing for the man to have done at that point.

"W-who do you think you are?" said the man, voice trembling from fear. Diaval supposed he had to give him points for being able to speak at a point where most men could not even hold their bladders from fear.

Maleficent, it was apparent, did not agree. "Who am I?" she asked, in her quiet voice, because she had no need to raise it. Armies stopped and strained to hear her whispers. "I think the more important question here is, who are you?" Her voice was quiet, but forceful, striking a deep resonance in the man. He visibly flinched, and shifted his weight. "It matters not who I am," she continued. "Who do you think you are?! Inflicting yourself upon The Moors. No-one asked you to come here. No-one invited you to come here, to cause trouble, to harm others. Who are you to claim these rights?"

By now the man was on his knees, trembling nonstop, and Diaval just shook his head. He knew what it felt like to be under that stare, to hear that powerful voice echoing through you until it seemed to reach your soul. He pretended apathy, as he always did, but he knew that secretly, he trembled too when she let him glimpse her power, as she was doing now to the poor fool in her claws.

The man was crying. Unapologetically, and most probably unknowingly sobbing as though he faced his maker. Pretty close, thought Diaval.

She looked at the sniveling fool with disgust, and a looked almost disappointed, he thought. It was true they never met anyone worth meeting anymore. Everyone in this godforsaken city seemed to tremble in fear of her: no-one ever bother to stand against her. Of course, they would fail, but she never got a chance to use her real power. Besides, made her feel as though she lived in a city of cowards. She sighed. Well, at least she could return home to her Aurora, and see her pretty smile again.

When she got home she was rewarded for her efforts with a shriek and a hug from Aurora, who did not expect her back so early. "I suppose it went well, then, if you are back already?" she said, and Maleficent gave her a frown. That was all that was needed for Aurora to start talking again. "Oh, don't give me that disapproving stare. I know, I know, we don't speak of such things," she finished with a good-natured huff, and she flounce back into the kitchen to resume the creation of a salad. Aurora's godmother remained silent, so she went on. "I had a perfectly boring day. I went to the grocery store, picked up the mail, and- oh!" she interrupted herself with something else she wanted to say. "In the checkout lane, I saw on the cover of one of those tabloids: it looks like Brangelina is at it again."

Maleficent perked up, and as she began quizzing her goddaughter for details, Diaval rolled his eyes. "I just don't understand why you two get so excited, keeping up with the lives of complete strangers, whose only recommending quality is that they are rich." But the girls ignored him and he shook his head, and opened the oven to check on the roasting vegetables inside. That caught their attention right away.

"Ooh, those smell so good!" crooned Maleficent. Will they be ready soon?"

"Another ten minutes, I should say," he replied, and plopped on the sofa next to her.

"Well then we should start setting the table," she decided, and popped up to do the chore. Diaval rolled his eyes again. "That woman never could sit still," he muttered, and Aurora laughed.

"Yes," she mused, "but isn't that why you love her?"

"What?!" Diaval acted as though he had been poked with a sharp stick.

"You love her," repeated Aurora easily.

"Well I certainly don't know what gave you that idea, but my relationship with your godmother is that of servant and mistress, nothing else."

"Oh, I know that," said Aurora, laughing. "But if it were up to you, that wouldn't be all there is to it."

Diaval sqwaked. "Now look here, missy," he began, but Aurora just laughed it off.

"Don't worry," she said, waving her hand nonchalantly, in a way that reminded him startlingly of Maleficent. "I won't tell."

She went to help her godmother set the table, and so Diaval remained, muttering to himself about the lunacy of young people today.

But that had not been the first time he had noticed Aurora mimicking Maleficent. It was obviously subconscious, he doubted either of them noticed it, but he did. He noticed everything when it came to his girls. He was glad to see it, too. Aurora needed a good role model, and who better, he thought. Maleficent was strong, but strong enough that she could be soft. She was beautiful, but she didn't rely on her beauty- she worked for everything she had. She was peaceful whenever she could be, but she was also the first person he would chose to lead an army to battle. She was sturdy and strong, almost unbreakable. But she was oh so delicate. She would never admit to it, the stubborn woman, but she was. He could see it in the hunch of her shoulders, in the occasional tremor of her voice. He was there when she was first broken by Stephan, that-

But he calmed himself, and watched his girls at work. They were both so happy. Aurora seemed to bring happiness and sunlight wherever she went, and Maleficent? He hadn't seen her this at ease since... Well, ever, actually. And he counted it as a matter of pride that he got to witness it every day.

Over dinner they discussed nothing much, things about their day, a new show Aurora wanted to try, a mention of dry cleaning. These were the conversations Aurora loved best.

She remembered when she first met Maleficent. She remembered how she never smiled. There was always a hidden, hooded look in her eyes, like she was holding back, afraid to be hurt again. She didn't see that look very much anymore. And she was glad. Because the woman that had become like a mother to her deserved to be happy, however much she may disagree. She was an outstanding woman, full of strength and gentle love. Aurora had experienced this first hand. That is why she loved these conversations the most. Because she could see how content Maleficent really was, how happy she was with her everyday life, and she knew that she wanted to keep her happy forever.

It was the middle of the night when Maleficent awoke. The time flashed on the microwave, berating her for being awake at such a time, but she could not sleep. She sat on the couch next to the big windows, and looked out over The Moors. She had grown up here, played on these streets and gone to school a few blocks away. Her old house wasn't standing anymore; it was a sleek apartment complex now, which was probably for the best. The place was admittedly ramshackle when she lived there, years ago. She looked out over the city, deep in thought, but still conscious of the form coming up behind her.

It was almost like an alarm in his head, he thought. Anytime Maleficent was distressed, ruffled, or when she was feeling particularly delicate. As soon as Diaval awoke, he knew that she was feeling restless tonight, and he got up to soothe her if he could, and hopefully get some sleep tonight. Not that he actually needed much sleep, being a bird, but it was a luxury he had quickly acclimated to when he became human.

He stepped into the dark room, and the city lights lit her reflection on the window. By the five holy mages, she was beautiful. Some might call her features sharp, but he knew their softness when she gazed at her Aurora, he knew that she was not made from stone from the few times she had allowed him to wipe away her tears. Her hair long and strong, he hands nimble and precise, she never seemed to waste a movement. Never seemed to stumble when she walked, never seemed to pause for a lack of something to do. He found that to be a quality he admired in her, even though he had never noticed that quality, or lack thereof, in anyone else. He didn't question it. Maleficent was a woman who could make you see a whole new side of the world. She would turn you upside down, your whole world around in a whir, but once she was finished, you'd find that anything was worth it for the new life she showed you. She may be a bit clumsy when it came to people, she stumbled sometimes in social situations, but that just made her all the more special, in his opinion, and it made being close to her feel like an elite privilege.

And it was that, he thought to himself. She had trusted three people in this world, and one had let her down. Let her down, and tried to drag her down with him. Diaval and Aurora silently understood that that meant it was up to the two of them to make that up to her.

So as he sat next to her, positioned almost identically to their spots before dinner, he kept silent. He knew she didn't need words. Words meant nothing, in this world or any other. He just silently sat beside her, supporting her, being there. They didn't need words between them, they understood each other, and so they spent the rest of the night like that, Maleficent looking out the window, musing on the world, and Diaval watching Maleficent, musing on the intricacies of the fairy in front of him.